


The Picnic Principle

by misreall



Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [25]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/M, Kissing, Love, Magic, Oral Sex, Picnics, Seidr, Sex, springtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: "It's the picnic principle. Things taste better outdoors. And if it's a forbidden thing, so much the better." -- Franny Billingsley
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/520786
Comments: 61
Kudos: 75
Collections: Spring Time with Loki





	The Picnic Principle

**Author's Note:**

> Now with splendid fan art by the always generous Caffiend!

For all that Loki still hated, if a little less, the Jotunn part of himself, he was still terrifically pouty when winter turned to spring. 

Also, it made him sneeze, like it was an allergy.

The very moment that winter tipped over the edge for the last time his body sensed it somehow. Even if it was still cold, even if there was still snow on the ground, the Jotunn in him could tell and he would sneeze.

Three times. 

The only three sneezes he would experience the whole year. Yet he reacted like an offended cat who could not believe it had been betrayed by its own nose.

Massive, messy, god-giant-wizard sneezes that were loud enough to shake the windows and gross enough to require an entire box of tissues each. Which she found hilarious and he found offensive to his dignity, so oh, the pouting! Followed by his being very much the elegant, impossible prince until the weather settled down. Even then he spent a lot of time scowling at crocuses.

As with many of his more difficult and aristocratic traits Nora secretly loved it when he was problematic and perverse and would never, ever admit it to him. Both because it was bad for him to be like that and because whenever he found out there was something she found attractive he went all out with it. Should he ever find out that when he was a massive, spoiled diva she just wanted to rub herself on him he would swan and sulk and swish and preen every waking second. 

Thinking it about it, as she did while making sandwiches that morning, he probably already knew, and it was more fun for Loki to tease her with his haughty behavior, hoping that he would make her confess some day.

Charles returned from the wine pantry, holding three bottles of champagne - two dry and one demi-sec. “These should do for a picnic, madam.”

“A what?” Loki drawled from the doorway. He was leaning in it, with one arm against the wood so his hand dangled loosely over his head, looking wan and tragic. “A picnic? It’s too hot for a picnic. And they are idiotic. Eating whilst sitting on the soil with insects in attendance? I think not.”

It was all of 65 degrees out. The funny part was that in a week or less he’d be fine, since hot weather had pretty much no effect on his Aesir form, and it would almost never get hot enough anywhere on earth to actually harm his Jotnar one. There was just something about the transitional period that made him crabby.

Nora shrugged, wrapping up the sandwiches, then rooting through the cabinets for cookies, “I figured you’d feel that way, so I wasn’t going to ask you. Charles? Do me a favor and grab an extra blanket. The ground is probably still kind of hard.”

Their impeccable demon nodded once and left the kitchen for the linen cabinet.

Loki said nothing. 

He said nothing with great vigour.

Holding a package of HobNobs and one of Mint Milanos, Nora shrugged and decided on both. As well as the rest of the apple pie that was in the fridge, and a couple bottles of French Lavender Lemonade. She lifted the basket and tested to make sure the bottom would hold before slinging it over her arm, and kissing Loki on the cheek on her way out. “See you later.”

Charles put the two blankets over her free arm and got the door for her.

Outside, she handed everything to Tori the doorman so she could put on her sunglasses. 

Chicago was always especially beautiful in the spring. Just like in the fall. The weather was too harsh and achingly cold in the winter most proper years, and too humid and hazy most summers, in her city. Those two seasons were oppressive, one with a white sky and the other with everything bleached out.

Yet in the liminal seasons, when the sky was blue or a deep, endless grey, and everything was becoming impossibly green and gold, or orange and red, it was a revelation. 

From her building it was just across two streets to the south end of Lincoln Park and just a bit more to the lagoon. The park was filled with people - nannies with babies and toddlers, because it was Lincoln Park, two field trips of kindergartners doing their very best to stay in neat lines and hold hands, dog walkers, joggers, some smart people just laying on the grass in patches of sunlight, their eyes closed. Everyone was relieved to see green again, and the buds on the flowering bushes, and those little crocuses that annoyed her husband so very much. 

Last year at this time everyone had been practicing social distancing, so this year everyone seemed determined to enjoy each other and the park and the sun. Loki had loved the whole idea of social distancing and had insisted they practice it by leaving the planet entirely. Nora had to agree to it, knowing he would have a nervous breakdown if she wanted to stay what he was calling her “plague pit” of a world.

After dithering about where to set up, with her arm and shoulder getting sorer and sorer as she did, Nora eventually found a nice spot, with dry ground, near some prairie grasses though also shaded by an elm. 

That Loki, wearing a black suit that seemed a bit much for a day in the park was waiting there already also helped her decide on it.

He leaned against the tree, his arms crossed, as well as his ankles, an eyebrow lifted, expression scornful as she grunted setting down the heavy basket. “Had you thought to invite your husband on this excursion in alfresco dining he might have carried that for you. Though why any sensible creature would choose to sit in the dirt and eat whilst surrounded by sticky children, human-generated detritus, and ants, is beyond even my ken.”

“We go on picnics all of the time.”

“In more … refined surroundings. The Royal Gardens of Vanaheim, the grand park of Alfheim, the Jewel Beach of the Adati Moon…”

“That one was very uncomfortable.”

“That made it all the more exclusive.”

“One of the first times we went out together we had sandwiches on a perfectly plebian Chicago beach and you didn’t complain then. I thought about inviting you,” she said placidly, while laying out the two blankets. “Then I didn’t.”

A cool breeze toyed at the corner of the top one, so she set one of the bottles of champagne in the corner. Though it was technically illegal to drink in the park, the picnic basket itself had a spell on it to make whatever was in it look benign to the forces of the law, regardless of where in the universe they were.

Sighing with content at the contrast between the cool air and the warm sun, at the greenhouse smell of the damp earth blooming new life, Nora opened one of the other bottles to pour herself a big glass, and unwrapped a brie and prosciutto sandwich

She sighed even more at the perfect bite. 

Several elm leaves, frost blighted, fell from the tree behind her and landed on the blanket. “Don’t do that! It’s not the tree’s fault.”

“I know you are just doing this to bait me, treasure,” he was still leaning against the tree, though now in a decidedly less relaxed way, the scorn having turned into a hooded glare. “To tease me. Knowing how much I hate not being included in your activities.”

“No. I’m not. Not this time. I just wanted to enjoy a picnic and a nice day in the park. It isn’t about you, which is what is really bothering you. Since you are here you can join me if you like.” She picked up a bottle and filled a coupe. “Drink?”

Loki moved to stand over her, looking down his nose and his long body at her so she had to shade her eyes to look up him and see his arrogant expression, “What a gracious offer, my princess.” 

He took the glass deftly and sat down cross-legged without moving in space or spilling a drop, just like a great big show off. Then he lay on his side, sipping, his head propped on his hand so his long hair hung over his brow. 

“Here,” she tossed him a sandwich.

With a snobbish look, he flicked open the foil wrap like he was expecting to find a long-dead snake inside, a look that turned to shock. “It’s _smörgåskaviar_ with bacon and onions. On black bread! You hate this. Why would you bring a food you loathe? Why would you make it? You once said that _smörgåskaviar_ smelled like something in the world had gone terribly wrong and people decided to eat it.”

“There is not a sane creature in the universe that doesn’t hate that. Or can pronounce it. Except you. God, I let you kiss me with the same mouth that eats that sort of thing…”

“Why? I ask again.”

Nora leaned over, very close and took his chin in one hand while pushing his sandwich-holding one far away with the other. “You are just like Maleficent, I knew the surest way to get you to come to my party was to not invite you. And even I can cook a sandwich. Make a sandwich, I mean. Especially a gross one, if it makes you happy.” 

Then she kissed him quick and sat far back from the offending food.

With a wry twist to his lips, he took hardy bite, trying to muffle his moan of pleasure while Nora smiled around a her own mouthful of ham and cheese.

Loki, now happy, or at least fed, took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, stretching like a lazy tiger on the blankets, while looking at her with sleepy eyes. 

The Egyptian cotton of his dress shirt momentarily tightened over his shoulders, showing their muscles, as well as those in his long arms when he stretched them over his head before relaxing with a smile. Nora grabbed her glass, suddenly very thirsty.

He had eaten the seven sandwiches she’d made for him - each in a decreasing degree of grossness so the last one was just roast beef with spicy mustard - the box of HobNobs, the remaining pie, and drunk the whole bottle of demi-sec, which Charles had included since he knew his master loved sweet wine after a light meal.

“Perhaps this was a good idea after all. No need to thank me for the spell that is keeping the insects at bay.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Nora said, finishing a third glass of champagne and feeling very relaxed herself.

All of the field trips were done for the day, most of the office workers who had snuck out on breaks had snuck back in, and the park was in that quiet time before schools and work were out. Only a reader on one of the benches, a homeless man who had just gotten up to stroll away after sleeping closer to the inner park drive for a while, and a woman who was sitting on the grass with her dog on the far side of the lagoon shared it with them.

As the sun had gotten a bit lower and it was cooling down, she started to pull on her sweater. 

“Cold, treasure?’’ Loki asked, his voice sibilant and low. He sat up, pushing his hair back, and offered her his hand. 

Nora let the sweater drop and climbed into his lap instead. In his Aesir form, Loki was slightly warmer than a human. Wrapping an arm about her waist, Loki picked up her again filled glass and put it to her lips. “Open up…”

As ever, Nora waited a second, a significant second, before giving him his way. The wine was more golden, more effervescent even, than she remembered, and her lips parted, it was perfectly chilled and headily warming. Indeed, it warmed some parts of her rather more than others.

Loki’s lips brushed her ear, his venomously honeyed voice whispering, “Sparkling mead from Vanaheim. The bees who create the raw material of it are an unusual species in that they exist on one particular bloom. They pollinate a specific flower in my mother’s garden. This is always drunk in springtime to celebrate the return of the sun.”

Nora let her head loll to the side so he could nuzzle her throat, “You mean the flowers that glow? The horny flowers?” Each bit of contact felt so good, like she was turning into honey, warm and unbearably sweet and wanting to flow all over him.

He gave a small nip to her lower lip, so her mouth opened, and he languidly invaded her, his tongue slowly lapping at hers, circling and devouring as she clung to him, stroking the tender inner flesh inside her lips so he shuddered tightly against her.

Breathing hard, they touched foreheads, stopping for a moment.

“Those are the ones,” he agreed, calm enough to continue, chuckling a bit, his teeth gently scraping along her jaw which he then soothed with little kisses, while his free hand rubbed firm, lazy circles on her back. “Although more accurately, they are the flowers that make one horny.”

The word ‘horny’ in Loki’s aristocratic drawl made Nora snort.

He lowered her to the ground and leaned over her, smiling, “You’re wet, aren’t you, treasure? As wet as the earth and just as ready to burst.” His voice was tender and his fingers firm as he pinched one of her nipples, which were already tight and sore. The sharpness of the pinch was exactly what it wanted, and he gave the same to the other. 

Nora’s back arched off of the silk quilt, “Yes. And you are as hard as a tree branch, ready to … to … to do whatever they call it when the leaves start growing again.”

Now he burst out laughing, “Yes, exactly that,” he nodded, pushing up her skirt and teasing along her seam over her panties, after taking a peek. “Wool knees socks and green silk, almost non-existent drawers, how very you…” he crooned approvingly as he circled her clit through the fabric. “This little bud may need some help blooming. Shall I help it? Give it a little kiss of encouragement? Do my part of the environment?”

Before she could not answer him, Loki pushed her thighs apart and settled himself between them. Again he nuzzled, and then placed a sweet little kiss on her clit through the fabric, before making her panties disappear. Then, with a soft fingertip, he began to stroke along her lips, “Wake up, little bud, open pretty flower.” 

Now he circled, and Nora made a sound. “I think it needs another kiss,” he said, conversationally. “It seems very shy for being a part of you, my treasure. Very much in need of encouragement. Wake up, little bud,” he said, before giving it a small lick.

Her back arched again. Above them, the elm tree that was just barely starting to fuzz with green, swayed a bit. Loki licked again, as his finger stroked deeper, and deeper, he licked and stroked and her body opened and bloomed and he suckled and then entered her, turning his hand so the pads of two of his fingers rubbed on her g-spot, each action just the barest bit too softly and slowly for her come. Instead he went on and on, rubbing and sucking, his free hand holding down her hips so she couldn’t move to make it happen.

He worked her until she was exhausted. 

Nora’s mouth was open, her eyes heavy, as she rode the need and Loki’s mouth. The golden wine still in her glass coiled out of the coupe like a snake, riding on the air, and then one perfect drop fell into her tongue as he gave a deep, hard, almost painful suck while pressing with a cruel firmness within her.

Pleasure spilled over and out of her, long and loud. Her thighs wrapped around his head and Loki growled as he now sloppily buried himself in her, fucking her with his mouth. The sound of it, squelching and her husband snarling, just made it better for Nora, and the second time she came quickly. 

She was still gasping it out when Loki wrapped a hand behind her head to lift it so he could kiss her, hard and ravenous and still growling, while pulling his cock out of his pants and then thrusting it into her so hard she barked.

They both laughed at the sound, staring hard into each other’s eyes, the laugh turning into bared teeth as he fucked her hard. 

She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking in time to his thrusts.

He threw one of her thighs over his shoulder so he could flick the nail of his middle finger hard against her already sore, overly sensitive clit. “I think you need to come again, darling,” he ordered.

Nora couldn’t even hear him. The last orgasm ripped out of her with a sob, even as she planted her free foot on the blanket so she could push up and grind against him, making him give three hard, last bucks before falling onto her with a howl.

Falling carefully, so not to crush her, and then rolling them over just in case, so she lay on his chest.

Afterward they lay, tangled and exhausted. Nora, not even able to lift her head, muttered into his shirt, “Did you put up the spell to hide us before we started eating or before we started…”

Loki, who had been stroking her hair, froze. “Er…”

“Well, fuck, I guess the city is going to fine us. Again.”

He kissed the top of her head, “Yes, probably. Though I think we have guaranteed the parks will be most wondrously fecund this season, so they may make it less costly than last time. For the amount they shall save on fertilizer if naught else.”

“Here’s hoping.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> smörgåskaviar - is a fish roe spread eaten in Scandinavia and Finland.[1] Despite its name, smörgåskaviar is not actual caviar, i.e. sturgeon roe. Instead, it is a paste made from cod roe and a variable mix of other ingredients, which can include mashed potatoes, tomato sauce, onion, salt and sometimes dill or chives. (Wikipedia)


End file.
